Faith
by flirtingwithanarchy
Summary: There were times in her life when Ella McDougall really regretted meeting the Winchesters. Sure they were like family but knowing them almost cost her her life. Now they've released Lucifer from his cage and to make it worse she might be falling for a certain angel. When everything goes from bad to worse can she keep her faith? Eventual Castiel/OC Rated T for language. Enjoy!
1. New Beginnings

**Hey guys! This is the new and improved 'Faith'. This time I actually have a really story plot planned out for this and the main character has more of an actual personality and a real background with a few secrets here and there. I hope you guys like it. Please let me know of any grammar errors, things I could do better, things you liked, reviews literally make my day!**

**Chapter One: New Beginnings**

"So," Ella said, opening up her laptop and plopping down onto the old motel bed, "looks like a Jack Ripper wanna-be used to live in the house. He kidnapped all of his victims and ripped out their hearts."

"How many victims?" Mallory said, packing her bag.

"Twenty or so but most of them were cremated because the remains were...well let's just say they looked better after they were put in the kiln."

"What about the killer?"

"Cremated after he was killed on death row."

"So it has to be one of the victim's' spirit out for revenge or something. That means we just need to find out which victims weren't cremated."

"Exactly. We'll need to check out the house to get an estimate on how many ghosts we're dealing with."

"Should I bring EMF or can you handle it?"

"I got it," Ella said, standing up and stretching her arms out in front of her, "we just need to pack the iron crowbar this time. Remember the last time-"

"Eleanor McDougall, we swore on our lives that we would never speak of that case ever again!"

The blonde haired woman raised her hands up in defense, trying to stifle her laughter, "Sorry, Mal. You have to admit it was kind of funny though."

"Shut up!"

* * *

The house was, of course, absolutely rundown and abandoned. Bright yellow police tape still surrounded the front yard, tangling itself around the rickety, old fence. The two women ducked under the tape, ignoring the signs the police had left warning trespassers of prosecution. They had been to the crime scene the day before, posing as FBI agents to interrogate the witnesses and examine the body. If by some chance, an officer did show up, they would just flash their badges and come up with an excuse.

"I just can't believe he used to rip his victims' hearts right out of their chests while they were still _alive_," Mallory said as the two of them climbed the creaky staircase up to the front porch.

"What I want to know," Ella said, as she started picking the lock the police had left on the old door, "is why anyone goes into old houses to look for ghosts. Why can't they just leave it to the professionals?"

"Why don't you ask the Ghostbusters?"

The two women laughed as they made their way into the house, shutting the door behind them. The dusty, old floorboards squeaked under their feet as they walked around, pointing their flashlights at anything that looked interesting.

"Alright El," Mallory said, dropping her bag on the ground, forcing up a cloud of dust, "put that psychic magic of yours to work."

"You know, one of these days your life will depend on your knowing the difference between magic and psychic abilities. You'll be dead."

"I will not! You've got my back after all. Besides, you're the monster magnet, not me."

"Whatever," Ella rolled her eyes. She quieted then, easing her breathing until her chest was barely rising with each inhale. She closed her eyes and reached her hands out in front of her, as if she was going to catch something. The room went still, Mallory suddenly felt the need to move, to run, to get away. She shivered, goosebumps erupting over the surface of her skin, but she stood still. "There are two," Ella paused, and, for a second, Mallory thought she had only imagined her friend speaking, "no...there's only one. In the basement. It's not moving."

"You sure? I'd rather not be taken by surprise today."

"Almost one hundred percent," Ella nodded, blinking as if she had just woke up.

Mallory pulled out her shotgun and checked to make sure it was fully loaded with salt rounds before she slung her bag over her shoulder, "Have I ever told you how convenient that mind magic of yours is?"

"I don't know. Have I ever told you that it's _not_ magic?"

* * *

"Come out little ghostie!" Mallory whisper-yelled as the two made their way down the stairs to the basement.

"Don't think that's gonna work, Mal," Ella said, clutching her gun a little tighter in her hands.

The basement was dark. All the lights on the ceiling were burnt out and broken but the two women could faintly make out what looked like footprints in the dust on the floor.

"Wanna light this place up. El?" the dark haired woman said.

"Honestly," Ella rolled her eyes, "it's like I do everything." She held a hand out, palm facing the ceiling, and murmured a spell quietly. A ball of light shot out from her palm and flew up to hover above their heads. With the new light, the two hunters surveyed the room. It was mostly empty. Broken glass was scattered across the floor along with cockroaches and a dead rodent here or there. There were several blood stains on the walls and in the very center of the room was a metal operation table with four leather handcuffs attached. Underneath the table, was a large blood stain.

"That's not creepy," Mallory said, pressing a hand against her stomach.

"This doesn't look like a great final resting place. This must've been where he killed all his victims."

"Correct," came a chilling voice from behind them.

The two women turned to see the ghostly figure of a man in a blood-stained lab coat. He was a thin man with wrinkled skin and eyes sunken deep into his face. His fingers were thin and pointy and his nails were chipped and covered in blood.

"This is where I took my pretty little patients and carved out their hearts," the man said, voice thick with blood lust. His whole form seemed to twitch and he disappeared.

"Wait, that was the killer," Mallory said, "I thought the ghost was one of the victims. He was cremated."

Ella sighed, "Well it looks like he left something behind."

"So," the ghost reappeared before them, smiling a mouthful of rotten teeth, "which of your hearts should I tear out first?"

"Neither!" Mallory pumped her gun and shot the ghost; the minute the salt rounds hit him, he disappeared in a puff of smoke.

* * *

"Okay, we gotta find something - anything," Ella said. The two women had locked themselves up in the main bedroom. While Mallory researched the ghost on Ella's laptop, the latter poured salt in front of all the doors and windows.

"His name was Ivan Cruickshank," Mallory explained, "he was a really well-liked doctor before his wife and son were murdered in a robbing gone wrong. After that, he went crazy and started killing people."

"Backstory won't help us, Mal. Keep looking."

"Okay, um...here," she turned the screen to Ella, "in every picture of him I can find, he's wearing this old watch but the ghost wasn't wearing a watch when we saw him."

"Worth a shot."

They started searching the room, checking under the bed, digging through dresser drawers filled with old, torn up clothes.

"I'm gonna check the other rooms," Ella said, loading her gun.

"I'll come too," Mallory stood up from where she'd sat down on the old bed.

"No, stay here and do some more research, see if you can find anything else he might've had."

"Alright, just be careful."

"I will. Call me if you find anything."

The house was silent as Ella made her way through the messy hallway. The floor was littered with crumpled up pieces of paper and broken picture frames. She held her shotgun at the ready, eyes darting every which way.

"There you are," Cruikshank's voice cried from behind her.

Ella turned just in time for the ghost to hit her square in the stomach with an old, wooden chair that broke on impact.

"Shit," she groaned as she hit the ground, wrapping an around her waist and using the other to hold up her gun.

"I wonder what your heart will look like, what it will taste like," the ghost faded away, but the hunter knew he was still there, watching her, coming closer.

Ella waited patient, listening. There was a sound to her right, a shifting of the floorboards. She turned and pulled the trigger. Cruickshank screamed and disappeared.

"Is there a study or some kind of office?" the hunter said to herself, as she kept moving. At the end of the hall was a single door. She tried turning the handle but it was locked. With a sigh and a complaint under her breath, she knelt down and went about picking the lock. Suddenly, however, Cruickshank grabbed her by the hair and yanked her backwards. Ella fell to her back with a thud, shotgun falling from her shocked hands. The ghost knelt down over her, hand poised and ready to rip out her heart.

"Stay away from her, you son of a bitch!" Mallory swung her iron crowbar through the ghost and he howled in pain before before disappearing.

"You okay?" the dark haired hunter said as she helped her friend to her feet.

"Oh yeah. Almost had my heart ripped out. No big deal," Ella said, sarcasm practically dripping from her voice, "thanks for the save."

"No problem. Now hurry up and pick the lock."

While Ella worked on the door, Mallory stood watching the hall. When she saw a few of the papers on the floor move from a sudden gust of wind, she instinctively pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.

"Mal, dear lord, only shoot when you see him," Ella exclaimed.

"Sorry, instinct."

Not a second later, the ghost reappeared. Mallory cocked her gun and shot at him but he flew out of the way. "Hurry up El, he's getting' good at playing tag."

"I'm trying. I'm trying."

"I want your hearts!" Cruikshank screamed, avoiding another shot from the dark haired hunter.

"Ugh," Mallory groaned in agitation and pulled the trigger once again but her gun was out of rounds. "Aw shit, El, I'm out!" she said, throwing the gun aside and reaching for her crowbar. It was too late.

There was a scream. Ella turned to see the ghost with his hand buried in Mallory's chest, his fist no doubt clenched around her heart.

"Mallory!" Ella yelled. Without even thinking, she thrust her hand out in front of her and the ghost flew away in a ball of fire, screaming in agony. Ella caught Mallory in her arms, turning to the door and kicking it twice before the lock broke open. She set the other hunter gently down on the ground and closed the door before feeling Mallory for a pulse.

"Mal, Mallory," she shook her friend's shoulder, "can you hear me?"

"Yeah," the other groaned, "I can hear you. That was easily the weirdest thing I've ever felt - ever. Don't try it."

Ella laughed, more from relief, "I'll remember that next time I think about letting a ghost stick its hand into my chest."

* * *

"Dammit," Mallory kicked the leg of the old desk, "it's not here."

Ella dropped a few of the heavy, old books onto the floor, "Maybe it's not the watch."

"Ella, it could be anything!"

"Then what are we going to do?"

"We could burn the whole place down."

"As much as I like that idea, I'm not sure how the police would feel."

"Oh come on. Get a gasoline trail going, light it up outside, hightail it out of here before the cops show up."

"Just keep looking."

Mallory huffed out a sigh and a complaint involving the word bossy, then decided to shuffle through the desolate, old drawers one more time. "So," she said, "back when the ghost was getting all handsy with me, was it just the fact that I had some old guy's hand literally grabbing my heart or did you perform magic without a spell?"

"I don't know," Ella shrugged, "maybe. I was just scared that he was going to kill you and...I guess it just happened without the spell."

Mallory nodded, "Fair enough."

Just then, the door burst open and the salt line they'd poured blew away. Cruickshank swooped into the room. He pushed Mallory out into the hall and the door shut in her face, refusing to open even though the lock was broken. The ghost turned his pale face to Ella. Her hands fumbled as she moved to grab her shotgun but she was too slow. He yanked her forward by the neck, lifting her a few inches above the ground. She coughed, clawing at the hand constricting her airway.

"They all tried to fight," he said, a sick smile on his face, "but they never won. No one ever did. I got all of them. I got all of their hearts. I'm going to get yours too."

The edges of her vision began to blur as she choked for air. Out of the corner of her eye, Ella saw Mallory's crowbar placed on top of the desk. She reached out, stretching her arm as far as it would go. Her fingers stung as they grazed the metal. Finally she was able to clasp her whole hand around it, her palm burning, as she moved and swung it through Cruickshank. Ella dropped to the floor, gasping for breath. She held onto the crowbar despite the blood that had started dripping from her palm. Taking one deep breath after the other, she looked up at the ceiling, trying to blink the spots out of her eyes. Just as she felt herself start to drift off, she turned her head to the side and she saw it. The watch. It was laying haphazardly under the desk, glass surface shattered, leather band worn.

"Ella!" Mallory cried from the other side of the door, kicking the wood but it didn't budge.

Ella grabbed the watch and pulled a lighter out of her pocket. Holding her shaky hands as still as possible, she attempted to click it on.

"I will have your heart!" Cruickshank cried, appearing before her. Right as he moved to grab her, to rip her heart out, Ella clicked the lighter and the flame burst to life. She held the watch above it as the leather started to darken and burn.

"No! No!" Cruickshank screamed, whole ghostly body igniting in a bright, blue flame. As soon as his screams had started, they stopped and he was gone. For good. The door burst open and Mallory rushed in, kneeling down beside her friend.

"Ella, are you alright?"

"Yeah, Yeah, I just," Ella moved to push herself up but the pressure applied to the burn on her right palm sent her falling back to the ground.

"Ella, your hand!" Mallory gasped, holding the wounded limb in her lap, "What happened?"

"Lost my gun. Crowbar was all I had. Iron and witches don't go well together, remember?" she said, pushing herself up again with her good hand.

Mallory laughed, relieved they were both okay, "Yeah, how could I forget. Can you stand up?"

"Yeah," the blonde haired woman stood, admittedly a little wobbly, and the two of them grabbed their gear and made their way downstairs to the front door. "I'm glad that's over," Ella said as they walked out.

"Me too. That guy was fucking crazy, seriously. Why can't ghosts ever be nice? Like why do they always have to be insane, bloodthirsty killers?"

"I'll remind you about that if you ever become a ghost."

"Oh very funny."

* * *

Back in the safety of their motel room, the two women had dropped all their things by the door and practically collapsed onto the beds in the room. After a few minutes of resting, Ella got up and went to wash her hand in the bathroom. The whole surface of her right palm was burned. She put some ointment on it, wrapped it in an ace bandage and called it a night. While Mallory had already fallen asleep fully clothed, Ella quickly changed into her pajamas. Just as she was crawling into bed, her phone rang. She checked the caller ID: Dean Winchester.

"Hey Dean," she said, voice quiet as not to wake her friend sleeping a few feet away from her.

"Hey sunshine," his voice came clear through the line. It had been a while since she'd heard it, but even now she could tell he was...upset, if that was the right word.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah...well, no," he paused, "Bobby's in the hospital. He got possessed by a demon and he's hurt pretty bad." he fell silent, almost like he couldn't stand to say anything else.

"Oh no, okay I'll be down there tomorrow. Are you and Sam alright?"

"Yeah, we're a little bruised but nothing too bad. Just get here as soon as you can and bring your magic crap," Dean said, his voice sounded like he'd tried to take on a joking tone but he couldn't seem to manage it.

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Night sunshine."

"Night."


	2. Ain't No Rest for the Wicked

**Chapter Two: Ain't No Rest for the Wicked**

**Chapter Two: Sympathy for Lost Souls**

Ella parked her car in the lot of the hospital and rushed in, heading straight down the corridor to the room Dean had mentioned in their phone call earlier that day. It had taken her all day to get to the hospital; traffic had been awful and she'd almost been pulled over a couple of times. As she practically bounded down the hall, a man in a white coat, presumably a doctor, shuffled anxiously past her.

"I'll use my game leg and kick your friggin' ass! Yeah, you better run!"

She smiled at the sound of that voice, having practically memorized it over the years. Ella walked into the little hospital room to see the three men. Bobby Singer sat angrily, mumbling curses under his breath in the bed, wearing a hospital gown with an IV stuck in his arm. Dean and Sam Winchester stood over by the window, Sam's face sad and Dean's stoic.

"What's all the fuss about?" Ella said as she entered.

"Ella," Sam exclaimed, moving over to pick her up in a tight hug.

"Hey Sam," she smiled, hugging him back as hard as she could. When he put her down, she reached up on her tiptoes and ruffled his hair.

"How you been?" he asked.

"Alright. Just finished a case with Mallory. Friggin' ghost doctor ripping hearts out of his victims. You can understand why I'm less than thrilled to be in a hospital right now."

"That makes two of us," Bobby said gruffly, arms crossed over his chest, almost like he was pouting.

"What have they done to you this time, old man?" she sat down on the edge of his bed and wrapped an arm around him.

"Watch your mouth, kid. Just 'cause I'm locked up in here don't mean you ain't gotta show me any respect," he said, but his tone was soft. She knew it was how he showed affection; she'd gotten used to it over the years.

"So what's wrong with you this time?"

"This time?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow, "you make it sound like you have to do this all the time!" he fell silent, looking at his hands, "It's my legs...I might bet my life that the doctor needs to go back to med school, he says I won't be able to walk again. Can you believe that yahoo?"

This news seemed to take Ella by surprise. She just sat there for a second, sadness swimming inside of her. Bobby was a fighter down to the bone. Something like this couldn't happen to him. She nodded sadly, offering the old hunter the best reassuring smile she could manage.

Finally, Ella turned to Dean. When their eyes met, she swore she could see something breaking inside of him.

"Hey Dean," she said softly, waiting to see if he would approach her or not.

"Hey sunshine," he said, his voice sounding more pained than it had over the phone. He leaned down and hugged her but it was half-hearted. She could tell he was hurting, but why, she wasn't sure.

"How's life of the almighty Winchesters?" she asked, taking on a joking tone but it didn't help at all.

He shrugged, "Same as always, no rest for the wicked."

Ella nodded, eyes soft. Then she remembered why he called her there. She set her bag down on one of the empty chairs in the room and started taking some things out. "Hey Sam," she said, "could you shut the door? Wouldn't want anybody to see."

Sam nodded.

The witch got to work, taking out ingredients of all different shapes and sizes. Dean watched her as he let out a sigh. It felt like everything recently had been weighing down on his shoulders, so it was nice to know someone else had the answers for once. It had been a few months since he'd seen Ella. After his return from Hell, she'd distanced herself, whether it was because she was afraid of him or afraid of what had brought him back, Dean didn't know - neither was better. But after the first appearance of the angel Castiel, Ella had come back into their lives, more than eager to learn about these so-called angels. Dean knew the woman like the back of his hand, every smile, every gaze. It made him feel vulnerable to know that she knew him that well too.

"Okay," Ella said, breaking Dean from his thoughts, "it's done."

"Bring it here," Bobby said, reaching out for the bowl. Ella handed it to him and he brought it to his mouth, swallowing all of the dark, purple liquid in one go. He coughed, covering his mouth like he might throw up. When he was sure he wouldn't he turned to Ella, "You're supposed to be healing me, kid, not killing me."

Ella laughed, sitting down on the edge of the bed again, "I know the stuff sucks. Sorry." The room fell silent as Ella held her hands just above Bobby's legs, closing her eyes. She took a breath, focusing on the energy she felt in front of her. Sam seemed to watch with a heightened sense of interest and Dean just turned away, shifting uncomfortably. "Haec, quae sanitatem terrae fractum," she murmured the spell quietly. A light emitted from her palms. Once it was gone, she waited a moment before opening her eyes. She looked up at Bobby, and he waited a moment before shaking his head.

"Dammit," Dean muttered, turning to look out the window.

"I'm sorry, Bobby," Ella said softly, guilt overtaking her, "I don't know why it won't work. This is something I just can't heal."

"It's alright. You tried your best, kid."

The four of them were silent as Ella packed up her ingredients. Once she was finished, she turned to Dean and gestured to the door. He followed her out into the hallway and closed the door behind them.

"What the hell is going on?" Ella said, anger in her eyes.

"What do you mean?" Dean said.

"Dean Winchester, don't you play coy with me. Whatever is wrong with Bobby's legs - it's not natural. And you and Sam look like...you look someone just _died_ or you _killed _someone. Not sure which is worse. What's going on?"

The man sighed and his entire being seemed to deflate, he rubbed the back of his neck, "Sam, he...he...set Lucifer free."

"What?" Ella gasped, covering her mouth to keep herself quiet, so as not to alert any of the staff.

"I know...it's just...he didn't mean to. He was being tricked by this demon and...now the angels are saying Sam is Lucifer's true vessel and I'm Michael's vessel and..." his voice trailed off and he fell silent.

"I can't believe this," the blonde haired woman said softly, "Are you alright?"

"Yes," he said, but his eyes said no.

Ella nodded, "I'm here, Dean. No matter what, okay? You guys need a hand, you call me alright? With Bobby out of commission you're gonna need somebody to help out."

"Alright, sunshine."

* * *

"So," Sam said, the first to speak up, "let me ask the million-dollar question. What do we do now?"

"Well, we save as many as we can for as long as we can, I guess. It's bad. Whoever wins, Heaven or Hell, we're boned," Bobby sighed.

"There has to be something we can do," Ella piped in, biting her lip.

"What if we win," Dean asked. The others looked at him in disbelief and he shrugged, "I'm serious. I mean, screw the angels and the demons and their crap apocalypse. Hell, they want to fight a war, they can find their own planet. This one's ours, and I say they get the hell off it. We take 'em all on. We kill the devil. Hell, we even kill Michael if we have to. But we do it our own damn selves."

"Dean, how're we supposed to that?" the blonde haired woman crossed her arms, shoulders slumped forward.

"I got no friggin' idea. But what I do have is a GED and a give-'em-hell attitude, and I'll figure it out."

Bobby sighed, "You're nine kinds of crazy boy."

"It's been said before," Dean smiled at the older man. It was an odd smile, not entirely forced but not entirely natural. "Listen, you stay on the mend. We'll see you in a bit."

The three of them started for the door.

"Sam," Bobby said.

The younger Winchester turned to look at him, apprehension in his eyes.

"I was awake. I know what I said back there. I just want you to know that," Bobby paused, "that was the demon talking. I ain't cutting you out kid. Not ever."

Sam sighed, "Thanks Bobby."

* * *

"You know Dean," Sam said as the three of them walked out to the parking lot, "maybe we could go after the Colt."

"You lost it?" Ella said in disbelief.

Dean shrugged, "Why? What difference would that make?"

"Well, we could use it on Lucifer. I mean, you just said back there-" Sam started but he was cut off.

"I just said a bunch of crap for Bobby's benefit," Dean muttered.

"Dean," Ella frowned, grabbing his arm.

He stopped and turned to look at the two of them, "I mean, I'll fight. I'll fight till the last man but let's at least be honest. I mean we don't stand a snowball's chance, and you both know that. I mean, hell, Sam, you of all people know that."

At those words, the younger Winchester seemed to stand up taller and he took a step forward, "Dean."

Ella looked from one brother to the other, gauging the tension that was practically radiating between them. "I'm gonna give you guys a minute," she said softly, turning and walking in the direction of her car.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair and opening the backseat of her 1980 chevy truck. She threw her bag onto the stained, carpet floor and lifted up the leather seats. Underneath was a hollow compartment where she kept her guns. Ella pulled a pistol from the pile and tucked it into the waistband of her jeans before putting the seat back and slamming the door shut.

"Ella," Sam said, walking over to her as Dean got into the Impala.

"Hey Sam, everything alright," she asked.

He shrugged, corners of his mouth turning down slightly, "Anyway, thanks for coming down at such short notice."

"Oh no problem. I'm just sad I couldn't help more."

He nodded, "Well we're heading out. We'll give you a call if we need a hand, okay?"

"Sure thing," she stepped forward and hugged him, "you stay in touch Sam. Whatever we're dealing with, we do it _together_."

He smiled, his hazel eyes sad, "Yeah, Ella, I know."

"See you boys around," Ella waved as she got into her truck and started driving. Once she was out of the parking lot, she turned on the radio and "Ain't No Rest for the Wicked" blasted through the speakers. She almost laughed at the irony, but then again, there wasn't really anything funny about it.

_Oh, there ain't no rest for the wicked,_

_Money don't grow on trees,_

_I got bills to pay,_

_I got mouths to feed,_

_There ain't nothing in this world for free._

_Oh no I can't slow down,_

_I can't hold back_

_Though you know, I wish, I could,_

_Oh no there ain't no rest for the wicked,_

_Until we close our eyes for good._


	3. Free to Be Me

**Chapter Three: Free to Be Me**

Ella let out a sigh of relief as she stepped out of the shower and wrapped a clean towel around herself, relishing in the feeling of the warm steam on her skin. Humming to herself, she dried out her hair and put on a ripped pair of jeans and a dark Henley. As she was dressing, she heard the door to the motel room open.

"Is that you Dean?" Ella says as she walked out of the bathroom.

"Who else would it be," he muttered sarcastically, setting a few grocery bags down onto the bed closest to him.

"Get everything?"

"Yeah, they were out of friggin' pie though."

"Oh no! Call the police! What a tragedy. Dean can't have pie!"

"Shut it," he said, turning away from her.

"Oh," Ella said, eyes spotting a decent sized blood stain on his jacket, "Dean I forgot to remind you before you went out, you've got blood on your jacket."

He sighed and threw his hands up in frustration, "Every damn hunt, I get blood on my clothes somewhere." Dean went into the bathroom.

"Are you using cold water?" she called when she heard the sink start.

"You've only told me to a thousand times!"

Ella laughed, shoving her dirty clothes into her suitcase and forcing the zipper closed. She sat down on her bed and started undoing the bandage on her right hand. It had only been a few weeks but the burn was healing nicely. However, she wasn't sure how long it would continue to hurt whenever she held anything.

"Stupid ghosts and iron," she muttered to herself, wrapping a fresh bandage around her hand. Suddenly, what sounded like the fluttering of wings sounded through the room and then Dean cursed loudly.

"God," he said, more irritated than frightened, "Don't do that."

"Hello, Dean," came another voice, much lower and rougher.

Ella stood up, grabbing her gun from under the pillows on the bed and she waited cautiously.

"Cas, we've uh, we've talked about this," Dean paused, "personal space?"

"My apologies," the other man said.

Dean walked out into the motel room, walking right past Ella and ignoring her pointed stare. "How'd you find me? I thought I was flying below angel radar?"

Ella's eyes shot over to the man that followed Dean into the room. He was a decent sized man, taller than Dean with broad shoulders and a square jawline. He had dark, messy hair and the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. Nothing about him screamed extraordinary, except for the fact that he'd magically appeared in the bathroom. The corners of her lips turning down slightly, Ella focused her attention on the man, taking a breath and feeling his energy. A soft blue light, presumably his Grace, seemed to shine from him and it emitted a very soft, very quiet hum that almost sounded like bells. Something about it seemed almost...heavenly.

"Where's Sam? Who is this woman?"

The deep voice broke her out of her self-induced trance and her eyes flicked up to his face, to find him staring at her. Under his gaze, she felt naked, like he could see her soul.

"Me and Sam are taking separate vacations for a while," Dean said without even a note of hesitation or sadness in his voice.

With one question solved, Castiel turned back to look at the woman in front of him, head tilted ever so slightly.

"I, uh, I'm Ella, Ella McDougall," she held her hand out to him, but he just continued to stare at her, squinting his eyes slightly, "Since Sam's not around, I'm helping Dean out." There was silence As Ella expected the stranger to introduce himself, but he did not. "Uh...who are you?"

He blinked, almost like he didn't expect the question, "I am Castiel."

"You're the angel that saved Dean from Hell," Ella said, staring at him now in awe. She supposed that the presence of the heavenly being before her should have put her at ease, but his appearance had only seemed to worsen her nerves.

"Yeah, yeah, he's an angel of the lord and all the crap. You can ask him for all the juicy details later," Dean waved her off and turned to Castiel, "You find God yet? More importantly, can I have my damn necklace back, please?"

"No, I haven't found him. That's why I'm here. I need your help."

"With what? God hunt? I'm not interested."

"I am," Ella said and Dean gave her a side glare

"It's not God," Castiel said, ignoring her comment, "It's someone else."

Dean frowned, "Who?"

"Archangel. The one who killed me."

"You were killed?" Ella piped in again.

Castiel nodded solemnly, "His name is Raphael."

"You were wasted by a teenage mutant ninja angel?" Dean said, smirking at his own joke.

"I've heard whispers that he's walking the earth. This is a rare opportunity."

"For what? Revenge?"

"Information."

Dean moved back to the sink in the bathroom to clean blood off his knife.

"How are you going to get the information though?" Ella asked, "If this Raphael guy killed you then I don't think he'll be so into sharing."

"Yeah, so you think you can find this dude and he's just gonna spill God's address?" the Winchester said doubtfully.

"Yes, because we are going to trap him and interrogate him."

"How do you trap an angel," the blonde haired woman asked.

"I have no idea," Dean said before turning back to the angel, "You're serious about this."

"Don't think he's the kind to joke, Dean," Ella muttered and he rolled his eyes at her remark.

"So what, I'm Thelma and you're Louise and we're just going to hold hands and sail off the cliff together?"

Castiel stared at him in confusion, eyes squinting slightly as they had before. He remained silent.

"Give me one good reason why I should do this?"

"Because you are Michael's vessel and no angel will dare harm you."

"What about me?" Ella said quietly, more to herself than the two men in the room with her.

"Oh, so I'm your bullet shield?" Dean crossed his arms.

Castiel sighed, his shoulders slumping forward slightly, "I need your help because you're the only one who will help me. Please."

Dean hesitated a minute before giving a curt nod, mouth set in a thin line, "Alright fine. Where is he?"

"Maine. Let's go," Castiel reached out to touch the two hunters but Dean stopped him.

"Whoa."

"What?" the angel frowned.

"Something wrong?" Ella looked up at the Winchester.

"Last time you zapped me someplace I didn't poop for a week." he said, giving the blonde woman a side glare when she started giggling, "We're driving."

* * *

The car ride to Waterville, Maine was unbelievably boring. Castiel and Dean had gone in the Impala and Ella drove behind them in her truck, so she was alone the entire ride. She kept the radio up all the way, but she couldn't seem to silence her inner protests.

"I just don't understand," she said to herself as they pulled into town, "he's an angel. I should feel safe." But yet she felt quite the opposite. Everything that had been happening recently had unnerved the hunter but not like this.

"So what're we in Maine for?" Ella said as she got out of the car, pulling down the skirt of the black dress she changed into a few miles up the road. Posing as an FBI agent had its perks, but the required dress code was _not_ one of them.

"A deputy sheriff laid eyes on the archangel," Castiel answered.

"And he still has eyes?" Dean snorted at his own joke, but when the other two didn't understand, he sighed and cleared his throat, "So, what's the plan?"

"We'll," Castiel paused, thinking for a second, "tell the officer that he witnessed an angel of the Lord, and the officer will tell us where the angel is."

"Seriously?" Dean frowned.

"That's definitely not going to work," Ella said quietly. She didn't want to be rude to this man she'd just met, but she also didn't want his naivety to get them all arrested.

"You're going to go in there and tell him the truth?" Dean continued.

"Why not?" Castiel frowned, looking from one of the hunter to the other.

"Because we're humans," Dean said. He pulled a fake FBI badge out of his pocket and put it in one of the top pockets of the angel's trench coat. Then he fixed the top button of Castiel's shirt and tightened his tie, "And when humans want something really, really bad, we lie."

"Why?"

"Because that's how you become president," Dean turned to Ella, "You got an ID?"

"'Course," she nodded.

"Alright, let's do this."

* * *

"Deputy Framingham?" Dean said as the three approached the tall, dark skinned man.

"Yes?" the officer turned to look at them.

Dean held up his ID and Ella did the same, "Hi, Alonzo Mosely. These are my partners Eddie Moscone and Lizzie Bennett," The two hunters and the officer turned to look at the angel who did nothing, "Also FBI."

After a second of silence, Castiel caught on and pulled out his ID, holding it upside down.

"He's new," Ella said as Dean turned the angel's ID upright.

The green eyed man let out a soft sigh,"Yeah. Mind if we ask you a few questions?"

Framingham nodded, "Yeah, sure. Talk here though," he pointed to his left ear and led them into his office. "hearing's all out in this one," he pointed to his right ear.

They all sat down.

"Happen recently?" Ella asked.

"Yeah, gas station. Why you're here isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. You mind running us through what happened?" Dean said.

Ella didn't really pay attention much as the officer recollected his encounter, she knew Dean would spare her the details. Instead, she shifted her attention to the angel sitting next to her. His blue eyes were focused on the police officer, his hands folded neatly in his lap. She couldn't deny that he was fairly attractive, his eyes were beautiful and he had a very nice jawline but she found herself more drawn to something else, something about him that just seemed...different. She wasn't sure what it was. She wasn't sure she wanted to know. Biting her lip, Ella looked down at the small, black cross tattooed on her left wrist and rubbed it with her thumb.

"It's angels and demons, probably," Castiel said matter-of-factly, snapping Ella out of her thoughts.

The officer stared at the man in disbelief.

"They're skirmishing all over the world," Castiel continued.

"Come again?" Framingham turned to Dean and Ella, "What did he say?"

"Nothing, nothing," Ella assured.

"Demons," Castiel insisted.

"Demons, you know," Dean cut in, "drinking, adultery. We all have our demons."

"I guess," the man said, clearly unconvinced.

"Anyway, what happened next?"

"Freaking explosion, that's what. They said it was one of the underground gas tanks but I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"Wasn't your usual fireball, It was-"

"Pure white," Castiel cut in.

"Yeah. Gas station was leveled. Everyone was" he paused, "it was just horrible. And I see this one guy, kneeling, real focused-like, not a damn scratch on him."

"Did you know him?" Ella asked.

"Donnie Finneman, mechanic here."

"Let me guess he just, uh, disappeared," Dean said.

Framingham frowned, "No, Kolchak. He's down at Saint Pete's."

"Saint Pete's," Castiel turned to look at the two hunters.

"Thank you," Dean nodded to the officer.

* * *

"So you're Michael's vessel," Ella said softly, leaning against the cool window. The two of them were waiting in an old, abandoned house.

"The angels need me to be a vessel for one of their pretty boy soldiers. Yay." he said sarcastically, flipping through his father's journal.

"Dean, has the," she paused, "has the Apocalypse begun?"

He looked up at her, eyes dark, "Yeah. How'd you know?"

"I've read the Bible, Dean."

"Well good for you."

"You're not going to say yes, are you?"

"Of course not. Who do you think I am, El?"

"Hey," she pointed a finger at him, "you've done some stupid and reckless things before."

"Like what?"

"Dean, you got yourself sent to _Hell_."

"That was a worthy cause."

"Still!"

He rolled his eyes and continued to read.

Before Ella could say anything else, Castiel appeared before them, holding a ceramic jug.

"Where've you been?" Dean said, shutting his father's journal. Ella scowled at it for a second after he'd put it down on the table, before turning to the angel.

"Jerusalem," Castiel said simply.

"Oh, how was it?" Dean asked, sarcasm practically dripping from his voice.

"Arid."

"What's that," Ella asked, gesturing to the pitcher.

"It's oil. It's very special. Very rare," Castiel sat down on one of the old chairs at the table, setting the jug down carefully.

"Oh so we trap Raphael with a nice vinaigrette?" Dean said.

"No," Castiel replied, looking at the man like he was crazy.

The three of them were silent.

"So, this ritual of yours," Ella spoke up, "when do we perform it?"

"Sunrise," Castiel said, not even turning to look at her.

"Tell me something," Dean cut in, "you keep saying we're gonna trap this guy. Isn't that kinda like trapping a hurricane with a butterfly net?"

"Harder."

"Do we have any chance of surviving this?"

"You do, Dean. She and I don't."

"What?" Ella's head snapped around to stare at the back of the angel's head but he didn't reply.

Dean shrugged and waved it off leisurely, "So," he said to Castiel, "last night on Earth. What are your plans?"

"I just thought I'd sit here quietly."

"Come on, anything? Booze? Women?"

Castiel remained silent and he sat up a little straighter, shoulders tight.

"You have been with a woman before, right? Or an angel at least?"

The angel awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and Ella couldn't help feeling sorry for him. He would never ever hear the end of this from Dean, whether he lived or not.

"You mean to tell me you've never been up there doing a little cloud-seeding?" Dean continued.

"I've never had occasion, okay?" Castiel snapped, turning to scowl at him. His cheeks were a very faint shade of pink.

"Alright," Dean grabbed his jacket, "Let me tell you something. There are two things I know for sure: 1. Bert and Ernie are gay. 2. You are not gonna die a virgin. Not on my watch. Let's go." he headed for the door.

"Dean wait what?" Ella called after him.

The Winchester stopped at the door, "Cas and I are going out. You stay here and watch that," he said, pointing to the pitcher before walking out, followed by Castiel.

"Dean, where the hell are you going?"

* * *

A strip club. He took Castiel, an angel of the Lord, to a _strip club_. Ella shook her head with a sigh, taking a drink of the beer she'd grabbed from the cooler in the corner of the room. Ever since Dean had gotten back from Hell, literally nothing made sense. Could Castiel even _go_ to a strip club? Weren't there heavenly laws against it or something? During the center of this train of thought, Ella's phone started buzzing in her pocket.

"Hello?" she said.

"Hey El!" Mallory's cheerful voice came through from the other end.

"Hey, Mallory," the blonde haired woman smiled at the sound of her friend's voice.

"Whats up? Where are you?"

"Maine. I'm working a case with Dean."

"Winchester? How's he doing? Is his ass still as great as I remember?"

Ella laughed, "I'm sure it is, but I wouldn't really know because I _don't look_. And he's...well he says he's good."

"Ah! So he's one of those kind of guys. Shame. Is he there? Put him on the phone. I want to say hi."

"He's not here. He took Castiel to a strip club."

"Who's Castiel?"

"Oh he's one of the angels the Winchesters met."

"Okay, but why did Dean take him to a strip club?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

"Okay then," Mallory laughed before the two of them fell silent.

"So," she said, voice soft, "how's it been going with-"

"It's fine," Ella said quickly, hoping her outburst would end the discussion, but it didn't.

"Are you sure? I know you've been tense lately and no one else knows but me, so Dean can't exactly check up on you all the time."

"What a horror that would be, but it really is fine, Mal. I'm doing good. I think about it sometimes but not a lot."

"Good, good. How've you been sleeping?"

"Really good actually," Ella said, her voice just a little too cheery to be believable, "I had this weird dream last night.

"Cut the bullshit," Mallory said simply.

"What do you mean?"

"Ella, I'm your best friend. I can tell when you're lying."

The blonde woman sighed, shoulders slumping forward, "I think it's gotten worse. With the whole apocalypse looming over our heads I can't get a wink of sleep without nightmares."

"Have you tried a sleeping spell?"

"They just make the dreams worse."

"Does Dean know?"

"Of course not! You think I would tell him? He would just laugh at me."

"You don't know that. Dean cares about you. I'm sure he would be concerned."

"Either way, he's got enough on his plate right now as it is. He doesn't need me to worry about too," Ella said, outside she heard car doors shutting, "it looks like they're back. I gotta go. I'll call you later, Mal."

"Alright, stay safe okay?"

"I will."

* * *

"You guys are back early," Ella said as she walked out to the driveway. "Something happen?"

"Oh no, not at all," Dean said sarcastically, walking past her, "Cas here just doesn't know how to talk to hookers."

"I still don't understand how what I said was offensive," the angel said as he followed the two hunters to the front door.

"How bad was it?" Ella asked, looking from Cas to Dean with scared eyes.

"Bad."

The three of them got to the door and just as Dean opened it, Castiel grabbed his shoulder. At first, Ella didn't understand the sudden outburst and then she felt it - they were not alone. Castiel stepped in front of them and they walked slowly into the house. Raphael stood before them. His posture was rigid and he stood tall, chin held high. He watched them with a pointed stare. Outside wind began to blow and lightning boomed in the suddenly dark sky. All the lights in the house flickered out. Ella could see it then - his Grace. The bright, white light seemed to radiate off of him in waves and it sounded like piercing, white noise.

Ella covered her eyes with her hands as she felt the brightness cause tears to sting the corners of her eyes. Dean put a protective hand on her arm.

"Are you alright?" he asked, kneeling down so he could speak softly in her ear.

"Yeah," she said, "his Grace is just very, very bright."

At this Raphael, stood a little taller, almost as if he was pleased, but he did not show it on his face. He simply said, "Castiel."

"Raphael," the man in the trench coat replied.

Once he knew Ella was alright, Dean turned to the new angel, "And I thought you were supposed to be impressive. All you do is black out the room."

"You can't see his Grace," Ella muttered.

"And the Eastern Seaboard," Raphael said, lighting boomed once again outside the dirty, old windows. "It's a testament to my undying mercy that I do not smite you here and now."

"Or maybe you're full of Crap," Dean said, "Maybe you're afraid God will bring Cas back to life again and smite your candy-ass skirt. By the way, hi, i'm Dean."

"I know who you are. I know who both of you _humans_ are," he sneered the word, almost like it disgusted him to say it, "and now, thanks to Castiel, I know where you are."

"You won't kill them. You wouldn't dare," Castiel practically snarled.

"I could kill her and take him to Michael."

Dean shrugged his shoulders, grabbing a beer from the cooler and popping it open, "Well then. Sounds terrifying. It does. But, uh, hate to tell you, I'm not going anywhere with you."

Raphael scowled at this and the sound from his Grace seemed to get louder, "Surely you remember Zachariah giving you stomach cancer?"

"Yeah, that was," Dean faltered, only for a second, "that was hilarious."

"Well, he doesn't have anything close to my imagination."

"Yeah? I bet you didn't imagine one thing." At Dean's words, Ella felt her heart pick up speed from the fear and anticipation.

"What?"

"We knew you were coming, you stupid son of a bitch," Dean clicked his lighter to life and dropped it onto the floor. Around Raphael, the Holy oil ignited in a ring of bright flames. The angel scowled at Dean, and, if looks could kill then the hunter would be lying lifeless on the floor.

"Don't look at me, it was his idea," he said, pointing to Castiel.

The dark haired man frowned at him before turning to his fellow angel, "Where is he?"

"God? Didn't you hear?" Raphael said loudly, almost as if he was yelling across a crowded room. There was a smirk on his face, "God's dead, Castiel. Dead."

* * *

Maybe it was everything mixed together, the light of Raphael's Grace, the sound of it, the anger that seemed to radiate off of Dean despite his acting calm, the lightning outside, Ella didn't really know, but Raphael's words seemed to cause something inside her to snap and she suddenly craved fresh air like she hadn't breathed in years. She walked quickly out of the room, ignoring Dean's confused glance, and sat down on the front steps of the house. The wind was blowing and thunder roared in the sky. Rain pelted against her skin but she didn't much care. She took deep breathes in, squinting her eyes against the wind and staring down at the cross inked into her wrist.

"God's not dead," she said to herself, "it's not possible. He's still up there, somewhere."

Once Dean and Castiel came out, Ella got to her feet.

"You alright, sunshine?" Dean said, wrapping an arm around her as they walked to their cars.

"Yeah, yeah, there was just a bit too much, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it. Well Cas and I are gonna head out, alright? You call me if you need anything."

"What about Raphael?"

"He won't be bothering anybody for a while."

She nodded, not sure what he meant and totally content not to ask. "You be safe Dean." she turned to Castiel, "It was, uh, nice meeting you, Cas."

"Same to you," he said, but he wasn't even looking at her - his eyes were still glued to the house, watching for any threat from Raphael.

With a wave to Dean and a gentle sigh, Ella got into her car and started down the highway.


	4. Nightmares are Dreams Too

**Chapter Four: Nightmares are Dreams Too**

Ella ran, knees aching, heart pounding in her chest, fighting the pressure in her lungs to breathe. She could hear the heavy footsteps behind her, could hear the sound of his ragged breath as he chased her. She was the prey.

"Leave me alone!" she said, over her shoulder, turning her head but not enough to see him.

"You can't run," the man said, his voice was deep, gravely. She'd heard it before. Where had she heard it?

Her chest ached as she pushed herself forward, feet burning as they slapped the ground. Just as she was beginning to feel she might actually get away, a hand clamped itself around her arm. Ella screamed as she was pulled backwards, the force sending her falling onto her back. She hit the ground hard, her head thumping against the pavement. He stood just out of her range of vision, but she knew he was there, just watching her.

"What do you want from me?" she said, gasping for breath.

The man moved to stand in front of her. His eyes were dark, like the deep, never-ending blue of the ocean. His trench coat billowed around him in the wind. He took another step towards her.

"Please," Ella said, trying to stand, "I haven't done anything."

"You're pathetic," the man said simply. A pair of ominous, black wings spread out behind him and they seemed to envelope everything around her. "You deserve to die." He approached her, his body and wings looming over her as he got closer. Slowly, he reached a hand out, almost like he was going to caress her cheek, but he tightened his fingers around her throat.

* * *

Ella cried out, eyes bursting open, and hands going to straight to her throat to claw off the man's hand, but there was nothing there. She blinked and looked around the room, a motel room. Her motel room. She'd been driving for hours after parting ways with Dean and finally she was too exhausted to see the road straight.

"It was just a dream," Ella said to herself. She let out a sigh and rested her head back on the pillows, turning to look at the alarm clock on the bedside table. 4:08 a.m. Frowning slightly, Ella pulled the covers up to her neck and snuggled into the hard mattress, hoping to get some sleep but also not wanting to risk having another nightmare. After a moment of hesitation, she sat up in bed and grabbed her phone. She dialed a number silently and pressed the phone to her ear. After five rings, it went straight to voicemail.

"Hey Sam, it's Ella. I'm just calling to say hi. I know it's super early and you're probably asleep or off doing whatever it is you do when you're not with your brother, but I just...I don't know," she paused for a second, "anyway, call me back when you get the chance. Haven't heard from you in a while. Hope you're safe. Bye."

* * *

Two hours and three cups of coffee later, Ella was back on the road. Instead of going back to sleep, she started doing research and she'd found a possible case in Bay City, Michigan. In the last week, five people had gone missing and only three bodies had turned up, all of which had the blood entirely drained. Vampires, no doubt.

"Hey Ella," Mallory's voice came through the phone, "what's up?"

"Hey," Ella smiled, taking a second to make sure she'd parked her car straight, "are you by chance anywhere near Bay city, Michigan?"

"No, I'm actually working a case on the other side of the country. Why?"

"Dang. Well I think I've got a vampire case and I might need a hand."

"Sorry, El. Try seeing if the Winchesters are around. Just don't take it on yourself, alright?"

"Okay. Bye Mallory." Ella hung up the phone and got out of the car, she checked to see if Sam had called back - he hadn't, which meant he was still MIA and Ella didn't want to bother Dean, he had enough on his plate. "Alright," she said to herself, "guess I'm doing this one on my own."


End file.
